BIRMINGHAM, Mich. — Sunbury Press has released Women Who Changed the World: The Journey and the Joy, a compilation about important women by students from the Crankbrook Schools.

A talented group of 8th grade female student authors from the Cranbrook Schools, guided by three editors, collaborated in what they called “The Cranbrook Project,” to create a book of brief biographies about important women who have achieved great things in their lives. The girls wrote about the following women:

Dr. Sue Carter

Mamatha Chamarthi

Mildred Dresselhaus

Katharine Hayhoe

Justice Bridget McCormack

Justice Maura Corrigan

Lou Anna K. Simon

Dr. Xiangqun Zeng

Lynn Povich

Arlyce Seibert

Kym Worthy

Florine Mark

About the Cranbrook Schools:
The Campus
Cranbrook Schools is located on a beautiful 319-acre campus, known as one of the masterpieces of American architecture. In 1989, it was designated as a National Historic Landmark, an honor accorded only two other independent schools in the United States. Sharing the grounds with the Schools are the Cranbrook Academy of Art and Museum (1932) and the Cranbrook Institute of Science (1930), both considered preeminent in their fields. Cranbrook House, the home of our founders George and Ellen Booth, is surrounded by 40 acres of gardens, lawns, and woodlands.

Facilities and Buildings
School buildings include Cranbrook Kingswood Upper School – Cranbrook Campus and Kingswood Campus, Cranbrook Kingswood Middle School for Girls – Kingswood, Cranbrook Kingswood Middle School for Boys, Cranbrook Lower School Brookside, and the Vlasic Early Childhood Center. Other buildings include Lerchen Hall (the Schools’ performing arts center), Wallace Ice Arena, and the Williams Natatorium.

Student Body
For the 2014-2015 academic year, Cranbrook Schools enrolled 1659 students as follows: 504 in the Lower School, 351 in the Middle Schools, and 804 in the Upper School, 255 of whom are boarders. These students came from 16 states and 20 countries, reflecting a diversity of races, ethnic origins, and religious beliefs.

Academic Program
The school year, from September to June, is divided into semesters in the Lower and Upper Schools and trimesters in the Middle School. The Schools observe Thanksgiving break, winter and spring vacations, and national holidays.

The program at Cranbrook Lower School Brookside and the Vlasic Early Childhood Center has been carefully developed to introduce children to academic skills in a positive learning environment. The focus is on strong academics and a balance of fine arts in a liberal arts education. The single-sex program on separate campuses in the middle schools accommodates the specific physical, emotional, and learning differences between boys and girls in the adolescent years.

Recognized nationally for academic excellence, Cranbrook Kingswood Upper School has been named an Exemplary School by the U.S. Department of Education. The curriculum is college preparatory, offering a broad selection of courses.

VICKSBURG, Miss. — Sunbury Press has released Where Elephants Fought: A Story of Murder and Intrigue During the Civil War, Bridget Smith’s historical novel about the death of Confederate General Earl Van Dorn.

For 150 years, scholars and amateur Civil War buffs have misinterpreted the infamous murder of the well-known Confederate General Earl Van Dorn. Based on twenty years of intense research, the author suggests that all is not as it appears. The real motivation behind the doctor’s decision to murder Van Dorn is not a story of jealousy between a husband and wife, but of loyalty and sacrifice. This story reveals one woman’s struggle with the blame for another’s crime and the secret that fractured the Peters family forever. Perhaps most compelling is the impact the tragedy has had on the Peters family, with the continued perpetuation of the 150 year old lie to this day.

Excerpt:
The soldiers lay down a section of split-rail fence for use in repairing the Duck River Bridge and tied the rails end to end behind an old mule. When the mule got stuck in the frozen muddy road leading to Columbia, they walked on the planks to avoid the flooded roadbed, balancing themselves on the beams like delicate ballerinas. They avoided getting wet at all costs. They understood frostbite. Just keep out of the water was all a fellow had to do. The camp doctor had preached this ever since a bunch of them showed up with black toes after the last march from Ripley.

Crossing the washed-out road had taken more time than anticipated. Most of them were exhausted by the time they reached dry ground, and though he was eager to reach Columbia by evening, General Van Dorn announced they would rest there till morning. They had but a few hours’ march remaining, but complaints had been rumbling up the line since morning. The general knew well the repercussions of pushing the men beyond their limits. The train of men and horses stopped abruptly as orders were sent down the line. A few men grumbled from within the ranks about wasting time now with such a short distance remaining, but Van Dorn ignored them. Better listen to the ones who moaned and complained. Better to stop the procession. Corinth taught him that.

A handful of men from Company E, Third Texas Infantry, warmed their hands by the fire near a grove of trees at the far corner of an old cornfield. General Van Dorn floated from campfire to campfire, making small talk with the men. He stopped just as he reached Private James Thomas who sat at the base of a large elm tree. The private propped his journal against the mass of bark, pulled a pencil from his coat pocket, and scribbled across the top line of the page.

“Private?” Van Dorn smiled at him and leaned forward.

“Yes, sir!” Thomas shot up off the ground and saluted his commander. His face turned red with embarrassment.

“At ease, soldier.” The general leaned against the trunk of the tree. He picked at a blade of grass as he spoke. “About your brother,” he said in a whisper. “He was a fine soldier, son. I want you to know that.”

Private Thomas looked away and nodded. “Yes, sir. Will was a fine soldier indeed. Mighty nice of you to say so.”

Van Dorn put a hand on his shoulder. “You can tell your mama, too. In that letter you’re writing.”

Thomas turned to the general and smiled. “Yes, sir. I’ll tell her. He was mighty fond of you, sir, I’ll tell you that.”

“Thank you, soldier. It’s not often I hear—” But he stopped there. “Give your mother my condolences if you will.”

The private smiled. “Yes sir. I’ll do that right now.” He picked up the notebook and finished the letter as the general walked away toward another group of soldiers.

February 21, 1863

Last night we had some biscuits cooked at a house close to our camp. Consequently we fared finely today… The railroad is close to a town named Columbia. This is the place where General Pillow lives who built the fortifications at Fort Pillow on the Mississippi. M. D. Cooper and D. Frierson & Company also reside here. There is a large female Academy in town. We traveled all day in a very hard rain. The water run in my boots. The weather got very cold and I came very near freezing. The Yankee pickets are in fifteen miles of our camp.

General Van Dorn has just spent a private moment with me to let me know his sorrow over poor Will’s passing. He bids me tell my dear mother what a fine soldier Will was. I believe he is the finest soldier and man in the whole of the Confederate army.

From your loving son,
Jimmie

About the Author:
Bridget Smith was born and raised in Columbia, a lush Tennessee valley town filled with antebellum homes and sprawling farms, a setting that both haunted and intrigued her until she could give it life in her Civil War era novel Where Elephants Fought. From the first glimpse into the lives of Jessie McKissack Peters and General Earl Van Dorn, she felt a deep connection to the story and soon found herself immersed in the world of research, a task that what would span nearly twenty years. After receiving her MEd in English, she soon married and moved to a quaint Mississippi town, a town not unlike her beautiful Columbia and equally as steeped in Civil War history. She has taught English for over twenty years and currently teaches English Composition. Though her life is a whirlwind with her four children, she has begun writing her second novel, a modern tale of sin and eccentricities set in her beloved South.

LANCASTER, Pa. — Sunbury Press has released Plain and Deadly, Barbara Workinger’s latest novel in the Life as a P.I. hasn’t always been what Ellerie March envisioned for herself. With a caseload mostly resembling the domestic scenarios on Jerry Springer, she’s not exactly working high-profile cases or helping to stop deadly criminals in their tracks. That is, until she meets Liddy and Annie Beiler—two Pennsylvania Amish women who have discovered an abandoned baby … or so they say. El takes the case in hopes of locating the baby’s missing mother, only to find herself in the midst of a homicide investigation and all too close to the family who might be responsible for this whole mess. Set against the backdrop of Pennsylvania and Ohio Amish country, city girl El casts her net for suspects—some of whom are the very people she needs to rely on to solve the case. Though she knows about keeping friends close and enemies closer, the lines of who is who become blurred in this “whodunit” escapade … especially when an unexpected romance springs up in the middle of everything, much to the delight of El’s grandmother and investigative “partner.”Through the course of the investigation, El uncovers not only secrets about the Amish and their friends, but also discovers special relationships she could have only found by following her instincts and her heart. The desperate search for the truth reaches its peak in a land where El thought the world would always be simple and safe, proving that even the most unsuspecting of places can be both Plain and Deadly.

Excerpt:
“Care to elaborate on who is in the waiting room? And why they are here?” I suggested, trying to sound more patient than I felt.

“Two Amish ladies. Dressed Amish at least, of course they could be.”

“Tracy, cut the speculation. Let’s assume they are Amish. Did they say why they wanted to see me?”

“It’s something about a missing person. That was all they said.” Tracy narrowed her eyes. I could almost see the black and white 16-millimeter film running in her one-track mind. “What do you think?” she asked.

“I think you’d better show them in, Tracy.”

“OK,” she whispered, removing handfuls of papers from the two chairs that faced my desk.

A few minutes later, the two women were seated across from me. Amish they were. I’d seen enough Amish in my growing up years in Lancaster to know the real thing when I saw it. And knowing that, I was as surprised as Tracy was to have the pair in my office. It was a first for me and I’d venture it was a rarity for any investigator. The Amish had little need to frequent a domestic investigator’s office.

The elder of the two introduced herself as Liddy Beiler. Liddy was in her early forties, I guessed. Hard to tell. Amish women, without any help from cosmetics and beauticians usually looked older than the “English”—which was how they referred to the non-Amish. Despite, or maybe because of the natural look, Liddy was beautiful in a serene, clear-eyed way. Glossy dark hair was pulled away from her face and showed only slightly from its containment beneath her black bonnet. She was also very plump. Maybe that accounted for the absence of lines in her face.

The younger woman, twentyish Annie Beiler, was Liddy’s daughter-in-law. If Liddy was beautiful, Annie was drop-dead gorgeous. Huge luminous blue eyes stared out from a perfect oval face. Despite her attempt to tame her ash-blond hair beneath a traditional Amish prayer cap, it curled out in becoming tendrils around her face. Amish or not, I imagine every male from nine to ninety noticed Annie.

In Annie’s arms a rosy-faced baby of about two or three months of age slept peacefully, wrapped snugly in a miniature Amish patchwork quilt.

“What a sweet baby you have,” I said, my not-so-well-hidden maternal instincts turned on full blast.

“Oh, he’s not mine,” Annie said. I thought she looked momentarily sad when she said it. I had obviously been spending too much time around Tracy: everything seemed like a scene in an old movie.

“Oh?” I said to no one in particular.

“He—we call him Jeremiah—is why we are here,” Liddy said, answering what was to be my opening question if I hadn’t been too besotted with small Jeremiah to remember to ask it. Liddy spoke formally, using very few contractions and had a decided Pennsylvania Dutch accent, pronouncing the “J” in Jeremiah like a “Ch,” making the name sound like Cheremiah. Her voice was smooth, the tone soothing. Reminded me of a few shrinks I’d met in my work.

“He is?” I said. In a few moments I mentally examined and discarded several of possibilities as to why.

“Yes. It is Jeremiah why we are here … and this note.” She fished in her commodious black purse, coming out with a neatly folded piece of paper. She handed it over, carefully lifting it high over the clutter of my desk. I wondered how Liddy, with her Amish sense of neatness and order, could stand my office. I would learn later that the Amish don’t judge the English, although they do wonder about us.

“We want to hire you,” she continued in the direct, no-time-for-useless-preliminaries way the Amish have.

I read the note, which looked to be hastily but legibly printed on the kind of lined paper I’d noticed the Amish usually used for correspondence.

“To Liddy Beiler, midwife: I am leaving this Amish babe with you because it is the only safe place for an Amish child. You must keep him for just two weeks already. I am in danger and he will be, too, if he is found with me. If he is given to the English I will maybe be killed. I need to fix up some trouble and I will come for him. Bless you.”

The note was signed “A Mom.”

About the Author:
In writing her mysteries, Barbara Workinger draws on her background as a research journalist, an antique dealer, and an interest in the art of quilting. She combines them with a fascination for the Amish area where she lived for over twenty years. Ten of those years were spent in researching the Amish.

PORT ST. LUCIE, Fla. — Keith Rommel’s latest novel, The Devil Tree, based on the Port St. Lucie, Florida legend is has been released in hardcover.

About the Book:
Back in the 1970s, a series of bizarre incidents occurred at what has since been known as “The Devil Tree.” Beneath this ancient denizen, evil was wrought by a sick serial killer, calling upon forces most evil and dark. People were hung there … and bodies buried there … exhumed by the police. Overcome by superstition, some tried to cut down the tree, to no avail. Since then, it has stood in a remote section of a local park — left to its own devices — quiet in its eerie repose — until now!

Best-selling psychological-thriller author Keith Rommel has imagined the whole tale anew. He’s brought the tree to life and retold the tale with gory detail only possible in a fiction novel. Action-packed, with spine-tingling detail, this thriller is beyond parallel in the ground it uncovers … one author’s explanation of what may have really been said — what may have really happened — under Port St. Lucie’s “Devil Tree.”

Excerpt:
PICNICThe past.
The big oak tree had crooked limbs that reached for the sky and a trunk over twenty feet in circumference. The thick canopy above blocked the midday sun, making the air seem ten degrees cooler than the scorching ninety-degree heat beating down from the hot Florida rays.

Port Saint Lucie was a quiet town and seemed to be a world within its own. Dirt roads and cheap housing had the allure to invite northern folks in hopes of escaping the bustle of city life, high costs of living, and the brutal cold winters that took their toll on the mind, body, and spirit.

For Marion, so far the change of pace was nothing short of perfect. The house she lived in was beautiful, her neighbors were pleasant; the air seemed cleaner and the sky a different kind of blue.

Looking at the ground surrounding the oak tree, she thought it the ideal spot to have a picnic with her two children, Bobby and Judy. She had Bobby carry the white and red checkered sheet, which was folded into a neat and manageable square. Judy helped by carrying the wicker picnic basket but struggled with the weight. Neither her mother or her brother offered to help her because she insisted she could do it and didn’t want help from anyone. Headstrong and full of temper, she was a handful.

Marion fiddled with a transistor radio and tried to get a clear signal so they could listen to music while they spent some quality family time on this perfect day out.

“Right here,” Marion said to Bobby, pointing at the flat ground underneath the giant oak. She mopped the sweat from her brow and looked up the hulking trunk and into the intricate weave of branches that was marvelous to the eyes. Spanish moss hung down, and if it wasn’t daytime the oak might have left the impression of a creepy Halloween prop.

Bobby placed the blanket down and did a fine job of getting all the wrinkles out of it. Marion assisted Judy in placing the basket down on the corner of the blanket, and although she didn’t say so, Marion thought she was thankful for the assistance.

She kicked off her shoes and stepped onto the squares and sat cross-legged. The ground was soft enough, and a coolness from the soil seeped up through the blanket, adding to the relief of being out of the direct sunlight.

“Yes, this is perfect,” Marion said, and the radio caught the marvelous chorus of “Norwegian Wood” by The Beatles. “Put your shoes off to the side before you step on the blanket,” she told the children. “I don’t want you tracking dirt all over the place before we eat.”

The kids did as they were told and Marion looked around, admiring the spot she had chosen. It was the first time she had been to this particular part of town and was glad she’d come across it. She had seen a couple of fishermen on her way in, tugging on the invisible lines they had cast and drinking Blue Ribbon beer. The men had looked over their shoulders at the sound of her car, but she had pulled far enough into the oversized lot that she couldn’t see them from her space.

The water in the canal looked clean enough to cool their feet if they needed, and the flow of water was slow enough that it posed little to no threat of sweeping them away. But she would decide whether or not they would go into the canal after the children had eaten and if they behaved well enough.

Bobby and Judy sat on the blanket, their legs folded Indian-style just like their mother. Bobby’s face lit up as he admired the giant oak and the things that dangled over him.

“Do you think I can climb it when we’re done eating?”

Marion thought about it. There was no question the tree was strong enough to hold him. But the sharp angles of the branches and clumps of Spanish moss made her nervous. She’d heard something about there being chiggers in moss. Despite the warm weather, she shivered just thinking about those nasty biting mites.

“I don’t know, Bobby, let Mommy think about it,” she said but already knew the answer to be no. She just didn’t want to start the picnic on a negative. “Let’s eat some lunch then afterward I’d like to go down to the water there and have a look. Maybe we can get our feet wet.”

“Neat, Mom,” Bobby said.

Static filled the Zenith 500 transistor radio, and Marion fiddled with the small dial, delicately turning it until the tuning was sharp. The Beatles came back to life and she couldn’t help but sing along in an emotional whisper.

She opened the basket and handed Bobby and Judy their bologna sandwiches, which were cut into fours. The children placed them into their laps and ate neatly and with manners.

“How did you find this place, Mom? It’s really neat,” Bobby said and was unable to keep his eyes out of the canopy. The tree seemed to invite him up the hefty trunk and into the tangle of branches. The vantage point from up there must be spectacular, he thought, and he bit into his sandwich with an ailing whine in an attempt to sway his mother’s thinking.

Marion ignored him and continued to take in her surroundings. Their 1966 Studebaker Wagonaire was parked about thirty yards away, cooking in the midday heat. She grabbed her own sandwich and unfolded the foil. As she sat there, taking tiny bites, a sudden chill rocked her body. The cold that came up through the ground and the shade of the giant oak maybe took away too much of the warmth, she decided. Marion looked at her children with the flesh goosed on her arms.

Sunbury Press has released the bestsellers list for April, 2015. Chris Papst’s expose on the financial collapse of Harrisburg, Capital Murder, took the top spot., followed by the Bethel AME church history Along the Bethel Trail.Flying Pants, by Lola James, claimed the third spot.

SUNBURY PRESS – Bestsellers for April, 2015 (by Revenue)

Rank

Last Month

Title

Author

Category

1

23

Capital Murder

Chris Papst

Investigation

2

NEW

Along the Bethel Trail

Friends of Bethel AME

History

3

—

Flying Pants

Lola James

Childrens

4

—

As the Paint Dries

Carrie Wissler-Thomas

History

5

16

Call Sign Dracula

Joe Fair

War Memoir

6

26

Amelia Earhart: The Truth at Last

Mike Campbell

History

7

NEW

The B Team

Alan Mindell

Sports Fiction

8

—

Rising Hope

Marie Sontag

Historical Fiction

9

25

The Wolf of Britannia, Part I

Jess Steven Hughes

Historical Fiction

10

24

Jesus the Phoenician

Karim El Koussa

Religious History

11

—

There Is Something About Rough & Ready

Lawrence Knorr et al

History

12

5

Rising Sun Descending

Wade Fowler

Thriller Fiction

13

18

Pit Bulls

Anthony Julian

History

14

NEW

Keystone Tombstones Anthracite Region

Farrell and Farley

Biography

15

NEW

Keystone Tombstones Susquehanna Valley

Farrell and Farley

Biography

16

8

The Complete Story of the Worldwide Invasion of the Orange Orbs

Terry Ray

Paranormal

17

9

The Sign of the Eagle

Jess Steven Hughes

Historical Fiction

18

—

Indian Villages and Place Names in Pennsylvania

George Donehoo

History

19

—

Freemasons at Gettysburg

Sheldon Munn

History

20

—

The Wolf of Britannia, Part II

Jess Steven Hughes

Historical Fiction

21

1

H Is for Hershey

Heather Paterno

Childrens

22

12

Winter of the Metal People

Dennis Herrick

Historical Fiction

23

30

That Night at Surigao

M Ernest Marshall

History

24

3

The Fossils of Blackberry Hill

Kenneth Gass

Paleontology

25

—

Bows, Bullets, and Bears

John L. Moore

History

26

—

Pioneers, Prisoners, and Peace Pipes

John L. Moore

History

27

—

Forts, Forests, and Flintlocks

John L. Moore

History

28

—

Cannons, Cattle, and Campfires

John L. Moore

History

29

—

Traders, Travelers, and Tomahawks

John L. Moore

History

30

—

Rivers, Raiders, and Renegades

John L. Moore

History

April has been a historically weak month for Sunbury Press. The company had its 2nd best April ever. YTD Sales are up 77% from last year. Hardcover books have grown to a 36% share of sales. EBooks have now slipped to less than 3.9% of sales. Trade paperbacks remain steady at 54%.

Chris Papst’s Capital Murder grabbed the top spot thanks to advance sales and author activity. Along the Bethel Trail, by the Friends of the Bethel AME, was also helped by advance sales. Lola James’s childrens book Flying Pants soared to #3 due to author events. Carrie Wissler-Thomas’s As the Paint Dries was boosted to #4 by ongoing sales at the Art Association of Harrisburg. Call Sign Dracula, the Vietnam memoir by Joe Fair, continued to chart at #5 thanks to steady sales in bookstores. Mike Campbell’s Amelia Earhart: The Truth at Last, soared to #6, up 20 spots, thanks to ongoing interest in the lost aviatrix. Alan Mindell’s new horse racing novel, The B Team, debuted at #7 thanks to support from his reader base. Rising Hope, Marie Sontag’s first volume in the Warsaw Rising Trilogy, charted at #8 due to author activities. Jess Steven Hughes nabbed 3 spots: #9 with The Wolf of Britannia Part I, #17 with The Sign of the Eagle, and #20 with The Wolf of Britannia Part II. Hughes benefitted from multiple books at his regular bookstore events. Karim El Koussa’s Jesus the Phoenician rose to #10 from combined sales of the paperback, ebook, and hardcover editions. There Is Something about Rough and Ready, by Lawrence Knorr, Steve Troutman, Elaine Moran, Cindy Baum, Christine Hipple, and Jeanne Adams returned to the rankings at #11 thanks to sales in the Rough & Ready area. Wade Fowler’s novel Rising Sun Descending slipped to #12 the month after his Sunbury Press Store event. Anthony Julian’s ever-present Pit Bullsmoved up a few spots to #13 because of ongoing interest in the subject matter. The Joes, Farrell and Farley, grabbed numbers 14 & 15 due to regional interest in with two of their newly-released books: Keystone Tombstones Anthracite Region and Keystone Tombstones Susquehanna Valley. Terry Ray’s popular The Complete Story of the Worldwide Invasion of the Orange Orbs stayed on the chart at #16 thanks to ongoing interest in the UFO phenomenom. George Donehoo’s classic Indian Villages and Place Names in Pennsylvania joined the rankings at #18 due to sales in the up state. Sheldon Munn’s Freemasons at Gettysburg climbed to #19 due to orders from Gettysburg retailers in advance of Memorial Day. Heather Paterno’s H Is for Hershey slipped to #21 following her event at the Hershey Historical Society. Dennis Herrick maintained #22, slipping 10 spots, with his Winter of the Metal People. The book is popular in New Mexico. Ernie Marshall’s That Night at Surigao climbed 7 spots to #23 thanks to interest in the last fight between battleships in WW2. Kenneth Gass’s The Fossils of Blackberry Hill preserved #24 thanks to author activities. John L. Moore grabbed the remaining spots #’s 25 to 30 with 6 of the 8 books in his Frontier Pennsylvania Series: Bows, Bullets, and Bears, Pioneers, Prisoners, and Peace Pipes, Forts, Forests, and Flintlocks, Cannons, Cattle, and Campfires, Traders, Travelers, and Tomahawks, and Rivers, Raiders, and Renegades.